Two Sides of a Coin

I don’t try to look at the negative

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t get angry or hold a grudge,

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t overthink things

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t care what others think of me

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t get stuck on little things

but my anxiety does.

 

I don’t think my life is hopeless

but my anxiety does.

I Tell Myself

I tell myself

not to worry;

everything will be fine.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

let them be negative.

You can still be positive.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

their words have no power

unless I give it to them.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

I tell myself

to ignore their drama;

Don’t let it affect you.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

 

I tell myself

to just let it go;

Move on with your life.

But my anxiety doesn’t listen.

The Monsters

When I was a little girl,

I used to be afraid of

the monsters under my bed.

You know, the ones that

only come out when you

are looking in their direction

and have the job of scaring

innocent little children.

I imagined monsters with

poisonous tounges,

dark cold eyes, sometimes

with more than one face.

I imagined monsters

whispering noises

I couldn’t understand

just loud enough to hear,

to remind me they were there.

As time went by and I grew up,

I told myself they weren’t real.

And I believed myself

all these years

until I began to work with them.

 

 

 

Inconsolable

One of the worse parts of anxiety

is the irrational worries and fears

it puts in my head.

Or maybe it’s the hours spent up at night,

lying in bed crying,

where I whisper to myself that it’s not real.

they’ll never happen.

Just keep pushing past them.

But what am I supposed to do

when one of those fear turns out to be true?

The pain going through my being

is inconsolable.

How do I tell myself that nightmares

are not real when they become reality?

Not My Job

I am suffocating in your guilt.

I didn’t get you into this mess.

I didn’t cause this to happen,

but yet I’m stuck dealing

with your consequences.

It’s not my job to be your pity party.

It’s not my job to make you feel better.

It’s not my job to make you less lonely.

Stop making it sound like it is.

I have a real job

with actual responsibilities.

I don’t have the time

or energy really to

deal with your constant guilt trips.

I’ll tell you what I tell the kids:

I don’t do tears,

Man up and get your shit together.

Stop suffocating me with YOUR problems.

I have enough of my own.

 

Throw Me a Bone

I feel like a dog from a cartoon

with a bone dangling in front of my face.

It’s right there.

I can see it.

If I wanted to, I could reach out

and grab it.

I could have everything I ever wanted.

But I can’t.

The second I get too greedy

and try to take it before it’s given,

it will be riped away from me.

It’s so hard.

It’s so tempting.

It’s right freaking there.

Sometimes, it’s like the bone is

purposely pushed closer to my face,

making it so hard to ignore

just to test my limits.

I can’t tell you how many nights

I’ve been up late crying because

I want nothing more than to take

this freaking bone that’s in my face.

It’s so obvious that I want it

and it seems so obvious that I can have it,

but every time I get to confident

and try to go for it,

it disappears.

And I’m left empty,

punished, for falling for the bait.

Why do you put me through this?

Why do you torture me so?

Just throw me the god damn bone

or throw it fucking out.

I can’t handle it anymore.